Silly, Silly Book Series: Chamber of Secrets
by iheartmwpp
Summary: Because no matter how much we may love it, nothing is without flaws. Contains the caring Hogwarts staff being really incompetent and irresponsible, lots of annoying repetition, and half the school begging for a transfer.
1. This Section's Rather Dull, Isn't It

_A/N: 'Sup, y'all! Part two of seven has arrivedededed! This part kind of sucks and is boring and repeats a lot of things that we already know, but then again so did this part in the book so I'm just being true to canon. So...nyah._

**Disclaimer:** I wonder why the Japanese golfer joke that I did not come up with was never actually included in my hardcover and softcover copies of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ that I did not write, it's _totally_ fine for kids. Also I just looked up a bunch of plumber jokes on the interwebs and picked the one I thought was the funniest. Also also I don't own _The Chronicles of Narnia, Doctor Who_, or a diary.

* * *

"I want more bacon," said Dudley, belching loudly.

"…Weren't you basically part pig for like a month last time I saw you?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Dudley slowly.

"So wouldn't bacon kind of send you into horrible flashbacks for years?"

"What the hell does bacon have to do with pigs?"

"…Never mind, here, you can finish mine, even."

"Sweet."

* * *

What did the Dursleys care if Harry lost his place on the House Quidditch team because he hadn't practiced all summer? Not that he would've been able to anyway, considering he was in the middle of Muggle suburbia and someone would've noticed if he tried flying around on a broomstick. He could've tried to use the Invisibility Cloak, he supposed, but that still left him without anything to practice catching so it was all rather pointless. As was this two-and-a-half page recap section that everyone skipped because stop it.

* * *

"With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten," said Uncle Vernon. "Can't miss my grand-nephew from the future giving the weather report, after all. We'll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow."

Harry couldn't feel too excited about this. He didn't think the Dursleys would even bother taking him Majorca and would instead just leave him at Mrs. Figg's for however long they were gone. Which would probably fuck up the blood protection even more than it already was.

* * *

Underage wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry hadn't told the Dursleys this, and thankfully Aunt Petunia had forgotten that her sister hadn't been able to use magic outside of school whenever she came home; he knew it was only their terror that he might turn them all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking _him _in the cupboard under the stairs with his wand and broomstick. Unfortunately, Harry never thought about threatening to use magic to get Uncle Vernon to let Hedwig out of her cage once in a while or to allow him access to his books so he could do his homework, and the Dursleys were clearly not as scared as they were supposed to be since they still insulted Harry and his school at every opportunity.

* * *

Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun. As neither Dudley nor the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow to his head with the soapy frying pan. Not knowing that she could be put away for life for _attempted murder_. Or are things run differently in the UK? Even if it isn't, _HOW CAN SHE POSSIBLY THINK THIS IS THE NORMAL BEHAVIOR SHE STRIVES TO EMULATE?!_

* * *

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby," suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Dobby knew the diary was Dobby's master's, Dobby knew that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could be freely named at one point, Dobby knows that there are powers no decent wizard would possess that Albus Dumbledore might not be able to stop…so it's very possible Dobby knew that his master was planning to use the youngest Wheezy child in his plot. Dobby doesn't really know why Dobby isn't waiting until the diary is planted, then going over to the Burrow and stealing it back and working on destroying it while uber-punishing himself. Then Dobby would know for sure that Harry Potter would be safe. Dobby apologizes, Harry Potter, sir, Dobby should've thought this through." He began banging his head frantically against the wall.

* * *

"What – the – _devil_ – are – you – doing?" said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke."

"The _what_ joke?" asked Harry curiously.

"Oh, you've never heard it? An American goes to Japan to close a big business deal. The night before, he is very tense so he picks up a hooker in the hotel bar. She speaks no English, but they get their transaction settled and go to his room. In bed, she is wildly thrashing around screaming out a phrase in Japanese. The man figures that she's loving it and tries to remember what she is yelling. The next day, he is playing golf with his Japanese customer. On the third tee, the Japanese man swings, the ball makes a beautiful arc, hits the green, bounces twice, rolls, and winds up right in the cup – a hole in one! Thinking to impress his client, the man repeats the phrase he had heard so much the night before. The Japanese golfer eyes him and says, 'What you mean...wrong hole?'"

"…And you were going to tell the guy you were trying to settle a deal with…in front of his wife. And your twelve-year-old son. During what is basically a fancy dinner party. And you think this would _endear_ them to you."

"Yeah, why wouldn't it?"

Harry pulled a Dobby and started beating himself with the lamp.

* * *

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry…Dobby hoped…if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him…Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir…"

"And this took _less_ effort than just grabbing the diary out of Ginny's cauldron once it had been planted?"

"…Shut up, Harry Potter, sir."

* * *

From the dining room Harry heard Uncle Vernon saying, "Tell Petunia that very finny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear…"

"Well I don't know about American, but it's certainly about plumbers and it's pretty funny. A local doctor called us out in the middle of the night because one of his toilets was blocked. He insisted that it was urgent and that we attend immediately. Upon arrival we lifted the toilet lid, threw in two aspirins, and said 'If it's still there in the morning, give us another ring.'"

And everyone lol'd.

* * *

At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our nephew – very disturbed – meeting strangers upsets him, so we kept him upstairs…") However, as it turned out Mr. and Mrs. Mason had a niece with Down syndrome, and they highly disapproved of the Dursleys seemingly locking their mentally handicapped nephew in his room to hide him from company and then forcing him to clean the kitchen. They immediately called social services, but before a thorough investigation could begin, Dumbledore showed up and modified everyone's memory except Harry's. He left him with a mysterious, "You'll understand someday, my boy, it was for the greater good," before Disapparating, leaving Harry, if possible, more alone and miserable than before.

* * *

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence—stop laughing this instant—that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.

As you know, the Trace is active upon all underage wizards until they reach the age of seventeen, so we know that it wasn't you who used magic in the presence of Muggles. Ignore the crap where we blame any magic used in the area on the wizard within said area; that has been negated by the knowledge of the Trace.

We are sending a couple of Ministry officials to your place of residence to secure the wizard or wizards who may have used magic in the presence of Muggles at twelve minutes past nine. You can expect them within the hour.

Enjoy your holidays!

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

* * *

Uncle Vernon was as bad as his word. The following morning, he paid a man to fit bars on Harry's window. He must've paid a hell of a lot, because WHY WOULDN'T THE GUY FITTING BARS ON THE WINDOW REPORT THE OBVIOUS CHILD ABUSERS TO THE AUTHORITIES. And why didn't Mrs. Figg report it to Dumbledore, it's her job to spy on the Dursleys. The cupboard was inside, she has an excuse for not knowing about that, but a window is _outside_, where people can notice. Why didn't _anyone_ in the neighborhood notice or question anything.

* * *

Harry's mouth fell open as the full impact of what he was seeing hit him. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked _in_ _midair_.

"…How did you manage to sneak a _car _up to the window like this in the dead of night?" he asked incredulously. "Is it charmed to have a silent engine or what?"

"Not so much," said Fred, suddenly looking worried.

"Then how did no one hear this shit."

"No idea."

* * *

"Look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't let me come back, and obviously I can't magic myself out, because the Ministry'll think that's the second spell I've done in three days, so—"

"Yes," Ron cut him off, "because obviously we snuck out in the dead of night, risking our dad's job and therefore basically our only means of income as well as the attention of the entire Ministry of Magic if we get caught, just so we could pop by for a quick visit to check up on you and then head back off."

"…So you'll tell them, then?"

"Get in the damn car, you stupid git!"

* * *

Harry moved back into the shadows next to Hedwig, who seemed to have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. The car revved louder and louder, not waking up _any_ of the neighbors and not alerting several Muggles to the presence of a flying car in the neighborhood. Suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in the air. Harry ran back to the window to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted them up into the car. Harry listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dursleys' bedroom, nor anywhere else in the neighborhood.

* * *

But as Harry climbed onto the windowsill there came a sudden loud screech from behind him, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"THAT RUDDY OWL WOKE ME UP WHEN THE LOUD REVVING OF A CAR AND THE CRUNCHING OF BARS BEING RIPPED FROM THE HOUSE TOTALLY DIDN'T!"

"I've forgotten Hedwig! And the neighbors'll definitely wake up and see things now, especially once my uncle keeps shouting, they're practically _trained_ to listen for scandals like this!"

* * *

"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"…He built up a bit of a reputation last year and I've been complaining about him all summer," said Ron, looking at his brothers in confusion. "Plus you would've heard it at the Sorting. How is it you're just now hearing his name for the first time."

* * *

"Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground.

"How do you know about American football terms?" asked Harry.

"DO NOT QUESTION MY VAST KNOWLEDGE."

"…"

* * *

"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.

"Oh, you're just exaggerating," said Mrs. Weasley, cutting Harry some bread and buttering it for him.

"Would one can of soup a day being the only thing he was allowed to eat count as starving him?" asked Fred, setting his jaw. "That's the only thing he had to eat all day yesterday, he told us."

"…Is this true?" asked Mrs. Weasley in a tremulous voice, staring at Harry, who nodded hesitantly, staring at the floor.

"There were bars on his window, too," said Ron.

"They're in the back of the car if you still don't believe us," said Fred, crossing his arms.

"I…Oh, those horrid Muggles!" Mrs. Weasley dropped the knife, rushed around the table and enveloped Harry in the biggest hug of his life. "Are you all right, Harry? Oh, what was Dumbledore _thinking_, leaving you with those people? I'll talk to Arthur when he gets home, he knows people at the Ministry, they'll fix this, don't you worry!"

"Er…" Harry twisted his head and looked at Ron for help, but Ron was too busy planning on Harry permanently moving into his room to pay him any mind.

* * *

"What a night," Mr. Weasley mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And I'm not even supposed to work at night, every other time you see me I'm going to work during the day, which really confused people reading later books who thought I _only_ worked at night based off this example. Which was probably just iheart and no one else. I better be getting paid overtime for this…Also first mention of Mundungus Fletcher in the series. So yeah."

* * *

"_Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!"_ shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"That I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours, give me a minute here," grumbled Mr. Weasley, swaying slightly.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal, though she finally backed off after the seventh time Harry wasn't able to hold all of it down.

* * *

"'_Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,_

"'_I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. This implies that I don't really care if you got caught doing something illegal and that I only care how it would affect Harry. Already I'm giving you evidence that I prefer him over you except I totally don't and really want to bear your children but I'm confused so I'm playing hard to get because that NEVER backfires. Or something. I'm twelve, shut up._

"'_Don't forget we have summer homework_—bollocks," Ron muttered under his breath, keeping an eye on his mother.

* * *

"Wish I knew what Percy was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all over the fact that he somehow managed to fit in every single class currently offered at Hogwarts."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's puzzled look. "Bill got twelve, too. I reckon they both had time turners for their last five years at Hogwarts, it's the only explanation."

* * *

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder, too.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that—"

"Yes, I understand younger relatives are like that, but I'm talking about your aunt and uncle, they'd never forgive us if we—"

"They would throw a party and buy you drinks to thank you," said Harry firmly. "Seriously, they'd think you did them a huge favor."

"…Ron, catch up with the others and tell them we're not going with them. Harry, you're going to help me write a letter to Dumbledore—"

"Dumbledore's the one who put me there in the first place and who insists I return there every summer."

"The Ministry it is, then."

* * *

Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. He must've read _The Chronicles of Narnia;_ as anyone can tell you the moral of that entire series is to never shut yourself away in wardrobes or closets or whatever, even though the Dursleys had made him break that rule his whole life. It sure was a good thing he remembered that rule now, though; wouldn't it be an interesting plot bunny if he _did_ shut the doors all the way and was transported directly to Hogwarts?

* * *

Harry ducked as Hagrid made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost – what were you doing down there, anyway?"

"_I_ was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages."

"Wait, why would Flesh-Eating Slugs be infesting the cabbages?" Harry cut in, confused. "Wouldn't they want to eat flesh, as implied by their name?"

"Well, I didn' want ter tell yeh, Harry, but our fertilizer is actually dragon dung mixed with the dismembered rottin' corpses of numerous virgin sacrifices."

"…Okay, your story checks out."

* * *

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out…He wants to be Minister of Magic…It's a wonder he wasn't in Slytherin, but I suppose he begged the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor for fear we would disown him…If anything would make the twins treat him even worse, it would be that…" Ron told Harry and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it.

* * *

"I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those," Malfoy taunted.

"Actually, considering we always have enough food for Mum to offer fourths to even one of us, I think they'll be fine," said Ron shrugging.

* * *

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry's favorite things. Even though Ginny was their last kid to go to Hogwarts and once she's sent off the house will be completely empty except for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for the first time since Bill was born…she decided to cook all of _Harry's_ favorite things. And her kids probably noticed this, too. No wonder Ron thought they were trying to replace him with Harry, and this might contribute largely to why Percy eventually left; I'm surprised Ginny and the twins aren't more messed up.

* * *

It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills instead of just Summoning them; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car WHEN HE COULD'VE JUST LEVITATED IT IT'S LIKE ONE OF THE FIRST SPELLS WE EVER LEARN AND YET IT DOESN'T APPEAR AGAIN UNTIL OOTP WHEN IT ALWAYS COULD'VE BEEN SUPER USEFUL.

* * *

The Ford Anglea is a TARDIS. That is the only explanation.

* * *

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry turning back for a last look at the house. He hoped that they could return to grab the things the twins and Ginny had forgotten, but since there wasn't any people or traffic around Mrs. Weasley had no problem sticking her wand out the window and Summoning George's fireworks and Fred's broomstick. For some reason it didn't work on Ginny's diary, but she and Mr. Weasley promised to owl it to her at Hogwarts. Harry even offered up Hedwig so Errol didn't have to make the journey.

* * *

Harry had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year. The tricky part was getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye, which suggests that Muggle-born children's parents can't see their children off to school at the beginning of the year, which is lovely and would be typical. What you had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed large groups of people vanishing before their eyes. And somehow, Harry and the Weasleys always, ALWAYS, got there the latest because everyone else gets there at five in the morning or something. How does at least one family not miss the train, it happened all the time when I took the bus as a baby kid.

* * *

"It's gone," said Ron, sounding stunned. "The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? What if the entire Wizarding World is stranded at the platform the longer we stand here? It's not like any kind of investigation for the portal suddenly not working will be launched or anything!"

* * *

"They don't need the car!" said Ron impatiently. "They know how to Apparate! You know, just vanish and reappear at home! Which is why I'm completely terrified that they'll be stuck behind the portal forever!"

Harry's feeling of panic turned suddenly to excitement.

"Can you fly it?"

"Nope!"

"LET'S DO THIS."

* * *

_A/N: __Books are barely starting to get longer, so it's time to start splitting them up into chapters. This one's gonna be a three-parter that'll be updated every Saturday, meaning that I'm gonna update weekly for a change, should be something different, I enjoy trying new things occasionally._

**_Review or a flying car will basically crash into your house and kidnap a family member but since no one else but you was woken up by this no one will believe you._**


	2. Now We're Getting Somewhere

_A/N: Hey, Guest, I sorta meant like younger in general, like a "Kids are dicks" kind of thing. X3 And why thank you, Mathalamus. The first one was short because, well, it was a short book. They'll probably get longer and longer as the books themselves also increase in length and as I slowly lose my sanity. Should be fun. Also yeah, "parody" is defined by dictionary dot com as "a humorous or satirical imitation of a serious piece of literature or writing" (and probably anything else really), which is why I put parody before humor for the genre. Ya'd think people'd know what they were in for. *shrug*_

_Speaking of, not that you'll read this anyway, but Lucious is spelled Lucius. Nice try, Nice Try. Oh and I was pointing out something that the Alohomora! podcast pointed out to me, before Harry went to Hogwarts he was making glass disappear so the Dursleys really had no idea what he was capable of, a frying pan can too do a lot of harm, Dobby knows way too much about the diary as is so he probably knew more and of course Lucius didn't actually tell anything to him but he is a house-elf and probably sneaks around a lot and hears a lot of things he shouldn't because he's just part of the background and you don't hide your secrets from your table which is probably all Dobby was to any of them if not less, neither joke was in the actual book, I enjoy making things up for the sake of a cheap laugh which I thought was readily apparent but I guess I'll have to work on that, the rules about underage magic have always been inconsistent as hell, what country do you live in where bars on the window that's not an actual prison is normal because it certainly isn't in the United States where I was basing my knowledge, it wasn't invisible at the time and they never turned it on once Harry was in the car, I'll give you that one, and that one, and also that one, my point is that he considers HOGWARTS home and NEVER considered Privet Drive as such so it probably doesn't work the way Dumbledore intended, after three days of no food Harry wouldn't be able to force down Weasley amounts of food without consequences, I will also give you that one, the time-turner is supposed to be a super rare thing so I always thought Hermione was a one-off, no one actually knew about the charm at that point, I wasn't aware that I shouldn't inspire people to write their own wacky stories by prompting some interesting ideas that I didn't necessarily want to work with, Percy just always sounded like a stereotypical Slytherin to me so I made Ron my mouthpiece, I never saw Arthur's job as high-paying but I see your point on the rest, I find it weird that Molly cooked ONLY with the guest in mind a month into his visit and not her own children no matter how famous he was, that's a nice theory but they were on a time crunch so using magic would've been more practical at that point, reread the description of the inside of the car please, the joke was that they went back three times for things they might've Summoned or sent later through the post so they wouldn't've been as late for the train, I was making fun of what was written in that specific paragraph (though come to think of it, do we ever see Hermione's parents on the actual platform itself...?), and of course Ron was panicking and I was going for another cheap laugh, which is, again, the whole point of this whole thing._

_And finally, I apologize, but I refuse to leave a fandom I've been heavily involved in for over half my life since I was nine, especially since you're the only one who wants me gone as far as I've seen. I'm sorry, but I can't stop loving this series, which is why I poke fun at it because the more you experience something, the more you can see it's not perfect but it doesn't matter because you love it anyway. Like most relationships, I imagine. :) But if you disagree, I'd recommend_ **not**_ watching the Very Potter Musicals by Starkid Productions on YouTube, I don't think you'll like them much._

_Everyone else, I apologize for the long amount of pointlessness, I was just giddy and overexcited, I haven't been flamed in a while, this was awesome. XDXDXDXD_

**Disclaimer:** Dndchk gave me an idea through the magic of reviewing and private messaging. I do believe a cameo is in order. Oh and I stole lines from Starkid again, I'm sure everyone is surprised. Aaand mentions of _The Casual Vacancy, Monty Python and the Holy_ _Grail_, and some other book written by J.K. Rowling that no one read because she's a terrible writer and no one likes her. (THAT WAS SARCASM IF YOU WERE WONDERING, HA HA PARODY/HUMOR IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE SHE'S ACTUALLY AMAZING THAT IS THE JOKE LAWL. -_-)

* * *

Ron unlocked the cavernous trunk with a series of taps from his wand. He started the ignition with another tap of his wand. This somehow does not count as underage magic. Also how is the entire parking lot deserted, I don't care if there isn't a train that leaves at eleven, train stations like that have got to be super crowded, especially since the portal would've opened by now if Dobby saw Harry leave, so Muggles and wizards who drive would totally be coming out and might see them.

* * *

I'd make a point that Harry and Ron were really lucky it was cloudy the whole way to Hogwarts if it weren't for the stereotype that the United Kingdom is perpetually cloudy all the time.

* * *

In Muggle schools, you can't even bring safety scissors to class. Our high school didn't stock decent red paint because it could be mistaken for blood, they were _that_ paranoid about making our schools super safe so they never got sued. At Hogwarts, however, you can have a giant killer tree that doesn't even have a fence around it; it's a miracle that Davey Gudgeon's parents never tried to sue for his eye. Instead of a tunnel under a deadly tree like that, why not just have a secret door inside the castle with like five different passwords that're always changing so it's less likely for someone to look outside and see you walking across the grounds to the tree and wonder why you're near something so dangerous and do whatever they can to find out including listening to the ill advice of someone they normally don't trust anyway. Siriusly.

"Oh yeah, the Whomping Willow!" cried Dndchk. "HOW was that never noticed at least once in PS/SS?!"

"Oh please," said iheartmwpp, "a massive tree in the middle of the grounds that beats everyone who comes near it? Why would you think that was conspicuous?" She shook her head. "Sometimes I just don't understand you people."

Dndchk laughed.

"Yeah, what the hell was I thinking? That Whomping Willow? You'd need to have hawk vision to notice it!" She proceeded to beat herself with a lamp. Seems to be a theme here...

Also HOW THE FUCK DID THE CAR COME TO LIFE WHAT DID ARTHUR _DO_.

* * *

"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train. It's not like we took a head count of who was supposed to be there like Muggle field trips do every five minutes or less; you're either on the train or you're not and we don't care about anyone who gets left behind. Unless it's our precious little Boy Who Lived, we can't go on without him, after all. Your renowned fame is actually the only reason we noticed the two of you were gone, Potter; if it had just been Weasley I doubt anyone would've cared much."

"Thanks, Professor, I appreciate that," muttered Ron.

"Shut up, Potter!"

Ron slapped himself.

* * *

"I noticed, in my search of the…park? The fuck, I meant _grounds_…that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow."

"That tree did more damage to _us_ than we—" Ron blurted out, but had to stop talking so he could cough up more blood, trying to poke his ribs back into his chest with the arm that wasn't broken despite the severed fingers. Harry would've helped him if he wasn't dragging himself on his arms, wincing and trying not to scream from the agony of his bloody and mangled legs that he was surprised were still attached to his body. He wished they weren't.

"Oh stop whining already," said Snape, continuing to berate them for breaking the law and not offering them any type of medical treatment whatsoever. What a good teacher.

* * *

If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but there _was_ that one time she threw them into the Forbidden Forest with minimum supervision to chase something super evil and powerful when they barely knew any magic as well as taking one hundred and fifty house points from her own house. Yes, she was absolutely the fairest teacher in the history of Hogwarts.

* * *

Snape looked as though Christmas had been cancelled. He cleared his throat and said, "Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry _and_ the Statute of Secrecy, nearly exposing our entire world, _and_ damaged school property. They should not only be expelled, they should be tried as adults for Merlin's sake!"

* * *

"You'd better go along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you're bleeding," said Professor McGonagall. "I can't believe Severus didn't make you go right from the start, I shall have to have words with that man…"

"Not much," said Ron, hastily concealing his stump of an arm. "Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted—"

"The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good," said Ron. "We would've disowned her otherwise, this is much better."

"And speaking of Gryffindor—" Professor McGonagall said sharply, but Harry cut in: "Professor, when we took the car, we weren't in school, so we weren't really out after curfew, so — so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it since absolutely _nothing_ is worse than being out after hours, not even attempted murder — isn't that right?" he finished, watching her anxiously.

Professor McGonagall gave him a piercing look, but she was smiling broadly.

"Hogwarts has taught you well, my child," she said proudly.

* * *

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" — he gulped — "it burst into flames and my hand was too close so it caught fire and I had to deal with second-degree burns along with the bleeding eardrums. I was like four or five."

"…Wizards don't give a shit about the safety of their children at all, do they," Hermione choked out in a horrified whisper.

* * *

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy, even Lavender I Will Give My Boyfriend A Necklace That Says "My Sweetheart" And Expect Him To Wear It Brown. Odd, that.

* * *

"Stupid—useless—thing—" Ron muttered, whacking his wand furiously on the desk.

"You know, this doesn't really make any sense," Harry commented idly. "Hagrid's wand was completely snapped in two, but he shoved the pieces down the bottom of his umbrella and it still does small things perfectly despite less than three years of training."

"…So Hagrid's a better wizard than me, is what you're saying."

"Basically. Have you considered taking it to Dumbledore, seeing if there's anything he can do about it?"

"Harry, Dumbledore may be the greatest wizard of all time, but even _he_ can't do that, I don't care if he's even got the Elder wand or something."

"The what wand?"

"Oh right, Muggle-raised, you wouldn't have heard of it. It's sort of a wizard fairy tale about three brothers…"

* * *

"I know all about you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead and how you actually despise your fame because every second of it reminds you that you're an orphan and how it's kind of strange that a Muggle-born would be so obsessed with you when it would actually make more sense if someone who grew up hearing stories about you their entire lives would fanboy over you instead."

"…Do you _ever_ breathe?"

"NOPE!"

* * *

Harry explaining the rules of Quidditch to Colin is the _only_ good part about the massive amount of recapping in this book.

* * *

"Now listen here, you lot," said Wood, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately – owing to circumstances beyond our control—"

"Well it's your own fault for not training a reserve team," said Harry, refusing to feel guilty for saving the world/country the previous year. "You're so mad about this game I expected you to have back-up players in case something happened to your one shot at winning."

"I'm with Harry," said Alicia. "I was a reserve two years ago, there's no reason to not have gotten more people to be back-ups."

"…Both of you shut up!" yelled Wood, his face turning red. "Potter, you are no longer allowed to fight You-Know-Who and the various forces of darkness during the Quidditch season, is that understood?"

"…So you want me to sit back so we _all_ get killed and _none_ of us can play?" asked Harry, confused.

"…"

"Hang on," Angelina piped up, "why was the Quidditch final last year the _only_ final to take place _after_ exams?"

"So Harry could be unconscious so we could lose in order for next year to be the bestest year ever," said Katie.

"Ah."

* * *

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.

"Right, looks like you got that sorted," said George, looking relieved.

"Yeah, for a second there I thought we might have to show concern for our baby brother," said Fred, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. "Narrowly avoided that, eh?"

Ron lurched out of Hermione's grip so he could lean over and belch a couple slugs on his brothers' feet. Suddenly the Slytherins weren't the only ones laughing uproariously, though once Angelina got the bright idea to point Ron in the direction of the opposing Quidditch team the Gryffindors got the pitch to themselves once more.

* * *

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin. "I suppose we better just take my word for it instead of one of us running off to ask Madam Pomfrey or Professor Flitwick for help, it's not like anyone could just fix this with magic or anything."

"What about _finite incantatem?"_ asked Harry.

"Please, that can't be our answer to everything ever," said Hermione snappishly.

* * *

"There you are, Potter — Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking toward them, looking stern. "You will both do your detentions this evening."

"Which part of the Forest are we going to this time, Professor?" asked Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.

"Or are you taking us to Albania to actively look for Voldemort?" said Harry, ignoring Ron and Hermione's flinches.

"…Neither," said Professor McGonagall, wincing herself and looking puzzled. "Weasley will be non-magically polishing silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch, and you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

"…Huh?" said Harry and Ron in unison.

"Cleaning parts of the school and writing lines are the basic forms of punishment at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall explained.

"…Then what was with the punishment last year?" Hermione demanded. "That was _way_ out of proportion to every other punishment we'll ever receive for much worse rule-breaking!"

"Do not question your elders, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall severely.

"I'm transferring," said Ron decisively.

"Right behind you," said Harry and Hermione.

* * *

"You look troubled, young Potter," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.

"Well of course I am," said Harry, staring at the spot that concealed the letter. "I can't figure out how ghosts could possibly send each other messages on _transparent paper_. What, do you have to die with a quill, ink, and parchment in your pockets for it to carry over into whatever your reality's classified as? And how do you even deliver messages to each other, are there ghosts of dead owls flying around as well, how does that work? For all Pottermore told us about ghosts, we still don't know anything. Seriously, who the hell is Binns and how long has he been dead but still teaching, we're getting _NOTHING."_

* * *

"You'd better get out of here, Harry," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood — he's got the flu and Dumbledore only approves of sick leave if it's the full moon, apparently, and also some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning the _entire castle_ all morning, all by himself, which is totally practical for one dude who can't do magic. Honestly, either Dumbledore needs to hire several more Squibs or a couple of people who know magic to do a better job, even tiny American high schools have two or three guys. OR HE COULD JUST STICK TO HOUSE-ELVES WHY IS FILCH EVEN HERE."

* * *

Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves, as did — Harry's heart leapt — James Potter, Harry's father! His name was written alongside three other names that Harry couldn't make out but who must've been his friends at Hogwarts. If only he could get a closer look…

* * *

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him.

"…_kill…time to kill…"_

"Actually, I do hear a strange hissing and…some sort of movement," said Hermione slowly. "Like something is dragging itself along."

"I'm hearing death threats in a creepy voice," said Harry.

"…Yeah, I'm with Hermione, I only hear the hissing," said Ron.

"LET'S FOLLOW IT."

"OKAY."

* * *

Something was shining on the wall ahead. Dried blood does not shine. The message was described as "gleaming" when Filch tried to clean it off. Ginny described having paint down her front; if she was wearing her robes she might not have noticed the stain at all if it was blood. Paint makes more sense. Ginny said it was paint. Therefore, it was paint. Stop believing everything you see from the movies, I don't care how dramatic they wanted to make it, in the books it was _PAINT_.

* * *

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris. I know we could probably _buy_ some Mandrake Draught somewhere, but as this is merely a pet I see no need to waste valuable school funds on what I'm sure is a highly expensive product."

* * *

Something in Ron's voice made Harry ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"'Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But – you must admit it's kind of unbelievable. Not as unbelievable as Malfoy being a Death Eater, of course, that's just ludicrous. You hearing voices without being crazy is _way_ more realistic than the son of a Death Eater who we always thought was evil actually being evil."

"…Why do I hang out with you."

* * *

"Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured Ginny. "The worst we had to deal with last year was You-Know-Who killing unicorns and drinking their blood and living off the back of a teacher's head. I know that's _nothing_ compared to a cat getting turned to stone, you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm transferring," Ginny announced.

* * *

"Can't hurt to have a look around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he said. "The hell did those get there, does the basilisk have laser vision or what?"

* * *

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girl's toilet."

"…We went in one last year," said Harry, "what's the big deal."

"Last year the only people in there were the troll and Hermione, _this_ year there might actually be girls inside!"

"Not really," said Hermione. "Only one dead one."

"…Oh good, now I _really_ want to go in there."

"Excellent, let's go!"

"THAT WAS SARCASM, CHILDREN."

* * *

Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dill light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

In other words, it looked like your average public Muggle restroom, only with crappy candles instead of crappy overhead flickering lights.

"…Does no one ever come in here to, you know, _fix_ anything?" Harry felt the need to ask the question every single person who ever had the misfortune of needing to use said public restroom.

"Just be thankful there aren't cigarette burns all over the toilet seats," said Hermione seriously. My high school was a lovely place, let me tell you.

* * *

"Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to _kill_ myself. Because of bullying, remember this little thing that JKR couldn't comment properly on until _The Casual Vacancy_ so we're just gonna casually, lol pun, pass over it here. Then I remembered that I'm—that I'm—"

"Already dead," said Ron tactlessly.

"I know, it sucks, I can't even cut myself anymore."

THIS IS A COMIC RELIEF CHARACTER.

* * *

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen in my one and a bit years of knowing magic existed," said Hermione as they scanned the recipe.

* * *

Madam Hooch had joined them.

"I've had my eye on that Bludger the entire game," she told them. "Someone's obviously tampered with it. We're calling off the game until we can figure out what's wrong with it and obviously there'll have to be an inquiry. We might have to get the Ministry involved; we're basically looking at the attempted assassination of the Boy Who Lived, for like the second year in a row really." She pointed her wand at her throat and said, _"Sonorus."_ She turned and addressed the stands in a booming voice: "A rematch will be held the instant we discover who done it. Until then, all future Quidditch matches are cancelled."

And Quidditch was never held at Hogwarts again because no one owned up to it and no one believed Harry when he accused the Malfoy family's house-elf.

* * *

…Imagine if the Bludger had broken Harry's ribs. Or spine. Oh God.

* * *

"What does this _mean_, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again, and our students are in great danger. Not that this would be a cause to shut the school down or start a deeper investigation on what's really going on, nor is it ever indicated that we contact this student's parents or the parents of any of the others who get attacked. Also apparently the rest of the children never write about this to their own parents or guardians since they never demanded any action be taken until much later. Odd, that."

"Well can we at least order some Mandrake Draught?" said Madam Pomfrey. "This student could be cured in an instant, there's no need to keep him like this—"

"Actually, it could be argued that if they remain within the safety of the hospital wing, they will no longer be targets," Dumbledore reasoned.

"Maybe we should start putting new rules in place so as to ensure that the students are marginally safer," suggested Professor McGonagall. "It's the least we can do and it's better than nothing."

"The day you try to make things safer for the small children within this building is the day I am no longer headmaster of Hogwarts," said Dumbledore firmly.

"I'm transferring!" Harry called from his bed.

* * *

"We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained as Harry, with difficulty, locked the stall again. "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it, even though there's every chance that a student who really, _really_ needs to use the toilet and has no other choice but this one could come in and catch us. Hell, with our luck, Filch might randomly decide that now would be a good time to try and fix up the place. Fred and George might also question what the hell we're doing if they see us on the Map…Actually, that doesn't sound like too bad of an idea, they're pretty damn decent at Potions and they'd probably help out willingly."

* * *

Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. They weren't really upset over the fact that parts of them were blowing up; they were surprised that it fucking _worked_. It was _Gregory Goyle's_ potion that Harry had thrown the firework into. He could not have picked a worse target if he wanted to come away from this without any horrible death or disfigurement.

* * *

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall _make sure_ that person is expelled. But I'm just going to glare at the guy who I knew did it, I'm not actually going to _do_ anything about it. I'm a nice guy like that."

"You sure are, Snape," said Harry. "You sure are."

And there was much rejoicing.

* * *

The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, despite the fact that the second years are the only ones ever mentioned in the entire section basically because who cares what the likes of Fred and George or anyone else would get up to in a Dueling Club, that's just silly, you silly.

* * *

"Well, there you have it!" said Lockhart, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — not that it matters, it now belongs to Professor Snape anyway…"

* * *

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry of a picture he'd seen in _Holidays with Hags_. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Remember, kids, if you're ugly or have a body-type that is stereotypically unsuited to your gender, you're automatically evil or considered as such.

* * *

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three—two—one—go!" he shouted.

Harry immediately dropped his wand; Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, _"Serpensortia!"_

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as Malfoy somehow performed NEWT level Transfiguration and Conjured a long black snake out of thin air. It fell heavily to the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the fact that a highly poisonous snake was loose in the Great Hall where it could attack any of the students at any time. "I think I'll just take my sweet time getting rid of it, proving once again what a _great_ teacher I am, really. Though I could totally have the antidote in my pocket, especially since I was the one who taught Draco how to do the spell just now, so yeah…"

* * *

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language, not the language of parcels, I don't know how we came up with that name, don't question it. You could have been saying anything — no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something—"

"Hold up," Harry cut him off, "how could it have _sounded_ like I was egging the snake on if you didn't know what I meant?"

"Looked like, whatever."

* * *

"And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something—"

"But I'm not," said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain.

"You'll find that extremely hard to prove in a society that's so obsessed with blood purity that they attach family trees to the walls of their homes," said Hermione morosely. "There aren't going to be any genealogical records anywhere, and of course there's no possible way you could ask about meeting up with someone who knew your father so you could interrogate them about your father's side of the family. I'm really sorry, Harry, but for all we know, you could be."

"Note how awesome it is that I'm still your friend even though you have a Slytherin talent and Hermione just said there's a good chance you could be his heir," Ron pointed out.

"That is rather awesome, thanks, man," said Harry sincerely.

* * *

"Remember what was written on the wall?" said Ernie. _"Enemies of the Heir, Beware._ Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked instead of Filch himself, because Potter's an arsehole. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him when he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know — Creevey's been attacked."

"…So what the hell did Justin do to piss him off?" said Hannah.

"He's Muggle-born! Slytherin's heir would be after Muggle-borns!"

"Hermione Granger's Muggle-born and she's Potter's best friend. Plus you were just making the argument for _enemies_ of the heir. Mrs. Norris isn't Muggle-born, and neither is Filch, for that matter. I think we should be way more worried about Malfoy and Snape than Justin, Justin didn't do anything to him."

* * *

"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns? Hermione's Muggle-born, I'd sooner attack Ron than her! For all intents and purposes Dean Thomas is also Muggle-born, but he certainly doesn't mind sharing a room with me because he knows I'd never attack him! Though it is strange that I haven't seen him freaking out at all this year…Anyway, _my own mother, who died so I could live, was fucking Muggle-born_. I don't give a _fuck_ what kind of blood status anyone has, just don't be a dick!"

"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly.

"Yeah. Because they're dicks, not just because they're Muggles. And if I _was_ the heir, _which I'm not_, I would've attacked Filch directly, I would've left Colin alone because no matter how annoying they are attacking baby kids is sick and wrong, and Malfoy and Snape would've been petrified last year."

* * *

Hagrid held up the limp rooster. I could do so much with this.

* * *

_A/N: When I told the father person about Richard Griffiths dying from complications after heart surgery, he came up with, yet again, something vaguely horrible. He guessed that Griffiths met up with Richard Harris at the train station of the afterlife or whatever and rubbed it in his face that he survived the series while Harris didn't. Somehow, despite being best known for playing Uncle Vernon, by us at least, I don't think Griffiths would've been that much of a dick. RIP, dude._

**_Review or Lockhart'll accidentally vanish your spine._**


	3. Well That Escalated Quickly

_A/N: So Mugglenet did like fifty April Fools reports, one of them being that Maggie Smith was going to be the twelfth Doctor. WHICH WOULD BE FUCKING HARDCORE BY THE WAY. There was another article, though, that was posted before any of the gags but still on the first so I'm not sure if it's a gag or not: an announcement of selected casting for the BBC adaptation of The Casual Vacancy. All of the others were so obviously fake, so I'm not sure if Mugglenet is trolling us further or if this one's for realzies. I can only hope that it was another joke; I REALLY don't want to see my precious Remmy-kins turn into fucking _Cubby_ of all people. I know, I know, acting, doing different shit, but Thewlis was a horrible enough person in Naked, which I enjoyed for some reason; this would be so much worse._

**Disclaimer:** Talking with Dracarot made me catch something really obvious I would've missed otherwise, thanks, brah. See, this is what happens when you review shit. You get a small note in the disclaimer. YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT.

Also I stole a bunch of crap (and by a bunch of crap I mean, like, one line usually) from _The Hobbit, Doctor Who, Yu-Gi-Oh!: The Abridged Series, _Rifftrax (yeah, they're back, bet you missed that), Linkara, Jeff Dunham (...shut up), Team Starkid, the _Princess Tutu _outtakes, and some random rich woman who said numerous times that she's totally fine with other people using her characters so shut the hell up.

* * *

Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. You'd think the house-elves would be on that shit, but you'd be wrong.

* * *

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes, which is why he only has any real significance in this and the fifth book and is never used again even when it would have made sense to use his crazy awesome powers, like the ability to carry immensely heavy loads. That one could have come in handy when we had a guy dying horribly from snakebite and we didn't want anyone to know what we were up to, but instead we just used him to carry messages like any common owl. Also, phoenix tears have healing powers, though they conveniently aren't able to heal cursed limbs that slowly eat a person's life force away for their last year of existence. They're highly faithful, though, so as soon as I kick it Fawkes'll never be seen again, it'll be awesome."

* * *

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? And how in Merlin's name was the Mandrake Draught going to be administered to someone who could no longer eat or drink?! Hell, is no one writing home about the attacks, especially now that things are so panicked?! Why aren't any of the parents pulling their kids out regardless of the state of the school like in Book Six?! If Molly pulled Ginny out at least, which she would because she's the baby girl, boom, school's back to normal.

* * *

Harry and Ron, the only ones left in their dormitory, were woken very early by Hermione, who burst in, fully dressed and carrying presents for them both.

"Wake up," she said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the windows.

"Hermione — you're not supposed to be in here—" said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.

"Nah, it's fine," said Hermione, throwing him his present. "Girls can go into the boys' dorms whenever they want; it's _boys_ who can't go into the girls' dorms. After all, boys would only want to enter the girls' dorms for perverted purposes and it doesn't matter if they wanted to reach one of them in an emergency because boys and girls can never be just friends. Girls, of course, would never even dream of having any kind of perverted purposes for they are pure creatures who never experience sexual desires of any kind and _certainly_ are unable to take advantage of a big strong male in any way, and even if they were, men always want sex all the time from anyone and everyone anyway, as long as they're female, so they would _never_ be ashamed of anything sexual that may happen to them at the hands of a woman. _Ever."_

"…Did you come up here just to spout Gender Studies paper bullshit or was there a reason."

"Potion's ready," she said, shifting Scabbers the rat so that she could sit down on the end of Ron's four-poster.

"Awesome."

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak…How come she never noticed anything up with Scabbers? Is Animagi-detecting-ness a kneazle power only, I thought Hedwig was smarter than this.

* * *

"And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione said, holding up a small stack. "I don't know why I was so shocked when I learned there were house-elves working at Hogwarts two years from now, I nearly tripped over six of them just now."

The three of them stared into the cauldron.

"…So did Filch or the house-elves just not clean this bathroom for an entire month or what?" asked Ron.

"That would imply that public restrooms actually get cleaned by anyone ever," said Harry.

"Wow, even in the Muggle world, huh."

"Yyyyyep."

* * *

"I think I've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously rereading the splotched page of _Moste Potente Potions_. "It looks like the book says it should…I made the version that only lasts for one hour as opposed to twelve, because making as much time as we possibly could to solve the mystery and maybe even prevent deaths is _completely_ counterproductive in every way."

"…I'm beginning to regret having you be completely in charge the potion," muttered Harry.

* * *

"We'd better get going," said Harry, loosening the watch that was cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is, which probably would've been smarter to do _before_ we got put on such a small time limit. If only we had more time…"

Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle _making logical sense._ Though you forgot that this castle is freaking huge, it'd take up loads of time just to get down there."

"And watch us pick the one day when Malfoy chose to hang outside in the snow or wanted to talk to a teacher or something so he's not even in the Slytherin common room, that'd also be awesome."

* * *

"Hermione, are you okay?" said Harry though the door.

"Fine — I'm fine — go on—"

"Well can you at least slip the cauldron under the stall door?" said Ron. "There's way more than just three goblets full of potion in there, we could take more once our hour's up so we can have more time to save the school."

"That's dumb and you're dumb for thinking it."

"…"

* * *

Malfoy glanced witheringly at Percy.

"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.

Percy looked outraged.

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude, but I'm certainly not going to penalize you for it in any way!"

"Oh. Well, thanks very much, you Mudblood-loving blood traitor!"

"Any time, Malfoy, any time."

"Can't imagine we didn't disown him sooner," muttered Ron.

"What was that, Crabbe?" asked Malfoy confusedly.

"…I LIKE MOO COW."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

* * *

"What's the new password again?" Malfoy said to Harry.

"Er—" said Harry.

"Oh, yeah — _pure-blood!"_ said Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open.

"…Who would assign 'pure-blood' as the password at _this_ delicate time?" asked Harry. "Who even assigns the passwords, it can't be Snape, he's a half-blood, and Dumbledore sure as hell wouldn't let this shit fly!"

"You're just encouraging the rest of us to despise Slytherins with a passion now," said Ron. "Guess you gave up trying to be decent long ago and decided to go along with everyone's expectations since why bother fighting against such ingrained stigmas, huh."

"…You guys are scaring me," said Malfoy, gaping at them.

* * *

"Who threw it at you, anyway?" asked Harry.

"_I_ don't know," said Myrtle. "I was just sitting in the U-bend, like I presumably always am whenever the monster gets released because it's really odd how I'm never here to see it when I hardly ever leave this place…or maybe I was spying on a prefect in the bath, could be either one, that brother of yours is surprisingly fit—"

"MOVING ON, PLEASE," said Ron, shuddering.

* * *

Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said. "I'm going to try and use it on this diary and then never use it for anything ever again. In fact, since it won't even work on the diary, it is entirely fucking useless. I spent twenty-eight galleons on this worthless piece of shit. Fucking hate my life."

* * *

Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away ere break of day_

_To find our long forgotten gold_

_The pines were roaring on the height_

_The winds were moaning in the night_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread_

_The trees like torches blazed with light_

"…I think you're in the wrong franchise, dude."

"Oh shit," cried Bofur, grabbing his awesome hat of forever and running back to the others.

* * *

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. This is the only other time the kids having pointed hats is brought up in the entire series.

* * *

The second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for the third year. Neville was the only one who got advice from his own family, but everyone else was flying blind. This seems to be a severe lack of guidance considering these class choices will essentially determine the future of their education, and thus for many of them their careers. There should basically be a Career Advice session before the actual Career Advice session, or the Career Advice session should take place in second year instead of fifth. Even as an adult in college I met with an assigned advisor who helped me choose classes and made sure I was taking all the required classes so I could graduate. This was from when I was eighteen, legally an adult, until I was twenty-one and could legally drink. At that point, you're kind of expected to do shit on your own and adult supervision is no longer required to make tough decisions, yet we were given advisory sessions anyway. These little guys are twelve and thirteen and they get NOTHING WHAT KIND OF SHITHOLE IS DUMBLEDORE PRETENDING TO RUN HERE.

* * *

Gryffindor's next Quidditch match would be against Hufflepuff. Wood was insisting on team practices every night after dinner. One has to wonder when the Hufflepuffs found time to practice, and if Slytherin and Ravenclaw just didn't bother.

* * *

Hermione looked aghast at the news.

"But — only a Gryffindor could have stolen — nobody else knows our password—"

"Not exactly," said Harry, "they could've followed a Gryffindor and just learned the password that way, overheard a prefect reminding Neville what it is, or someone copied us and snuck in with Polyjuice Potion or something. I mean, it might've changed by now but we basically know the password to the Slytherin common room, it's not entirely unreasonable that someone outside our house would also know the password."

"STOP BRINGING ME DOWN."

* * *

"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't suppose either of you can explain how Miss Granger convinced a much older student from a different House to look randomly into this? It was on the floor next to them…"

She was holding up a small, circular mirror.

* * *

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening, giving them _very_ little time to eat or do homework, especially if they're in the higher years. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time, and therefore Astronomy class is presumably cancelled, since it's at midnight and everything. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher since we totally want to kill off your only defense. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. Ladies, have fun with that one. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed—Wood, stop trying to strangle yourself with your tie this instant. Where'd you even _get _a tie, we're all wearing robes…Oh, and there will be no more evening activities."

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. Obviously there is no way we should've done so long before now back when Mr. Creevey was attacked, how dare you even suggest such a thing."

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.

"Anyone else want to transfer to a school that _doesn't_ have a giant monster running around?" asked Katie, but the rest of the Gryffindors were cut off before they could all voice their collective approval of this plan.

"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff," said the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan who was already seen in Diagon Alley and when he was commenting on the Quidditch match so why are we getting this insult to our intelligence, counting on his fingers. "Haven't _any_ of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Hasn't it crossed _my_ mind that the reason for that is because there are probably few to no Muggle-borns in that House so of course they'd all be safe? Isn't it _obvious_ all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The _Heir _of Slytherin, the _monster_ of Slytherin — why don't they just chuck everyone with a specific personality that might be able to change over time with decent guidance out of the school so they'll just keep believing what they always have and never be encouraged to change and always see us as the enemy, convinced as they are that the status quo will never be changed so why bother trying?" he roared, to thunderous applause. Remember, kids: Gryffindors, the "good guys", approve of permanently removing a group of people that are different from them or don't believe the same things that they do from existence. OUR HEROES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND VARIATIONS THEREUPON.

* * *

It was with relief that they reached the oak front doors and eased them open, even though they were slightly freaked out that the front doors to the school full of baby kids was completely unlocked when there was a giant monster on the loose; what if it was hiding in the forest when it wasn't attacking Muggle-borns? Fuck, _you shouldn't leave the fucking doors to a place filled with small children completely unlocked during the best of circumstances. _And you claim to be the safest place in the wizarding world, START FUCKING ACTING LIKE IT YOU MOTHERFUCKERS.

* * *

Dumbledore knew Hagrid didn't do it and suspected that Riddle did, yet he didn't bother wasting any of the previous fifty years trying to figure out what the monster was and if it was still in Hogwarts or not. What a guy. I love him so.

* * *

Harry and Ron had tried to visit Hermione, but visitors were now barred from the hospital wing.

"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey told them severely through a crack in the infirmary door. "No, I'm sorry, there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off…And before you ask, we're not sending these baby kids to the relative safety of St. Mungo's because we want to avoid any of this coming out in the papers, which as well you know is _so_ much more important than the lives of small children."

"Seriously, we're fucking transferring," said Harry and Ron together.

* * *

"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on. "Not as surprised at how Professor Snape over there is letting me get away with using that word considering his tragic past, but still pretty surprised."

* * *

Oh, there _is_ a lock on the oak front doors. Could've specified that earlier. Also it looks like it can be operated manually and doesn't even need a spell to open it. Yeah, that'll be fine, that'll keep people safe. -_-

* * *

Ron was shivering uncontrollably now. "What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I'd like to know?"

"That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry, throwing the cloak over Ron and prodding him in the arm to make him walk. "He was innocent. We have the solemn word of a horrifyingly huge spider that tried to eat us, and that's good enough for me."

* * *

"All those times we were in the bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," said Ron bitterly at breakfast next day, "and we could've asked her, and now…Fuck, anyone who was involved with the Chamber of Secrets opening fifty years ago, as soon as she popped up in the bathroom or started stalking Olive Hornby, they could've just _asked_ her what the fuck happened when she died and they could've _avoided all this bullshit."_

"But then we would've been able to save the school," said Harry reasonably. "Only we can do it since no adult can ever be competent _ever_ in a children's series like this. _EVER."_

* * *

Harry and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they'd avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

"…Would it be great if both of us got attacked right now?" said Ron. "Won't she just feel horrible that the one time she broke her own safety rule was the one time students got hurt."

"I want to know where these teachers-walking-us-everywhere rules and new curfews and stuff were when Sirius was roaming about the place," said Harry.

* * *

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Hermione Jean Granger tore a page out of a book. A library book no less. And she wrote on it. Things must be _really_ fucked up. She could've just snuck out the whole book and maybe conveniently had her hand in the page they needed, and the professors could've noticed and figured things out and solved everything on their own for once instead of leaving it all to two thirteen-year-olds and a twelve-year-old. But that would be making of-age wizards into responsible people, and that can never happen. I know I'm getting repetitive again but _seriously._

* * *

They sat there, excitement coursing through them, hardly able to believe it.

"You know what I really can't believe, though?" said Ron, his exhilaration visibly fading. "How it's so convenient that Hermione figured out the answer behind the entire year's events and _immediately_ gets put out of commission right after. This is why she should tell us what she's planning at least in part_before_ heading off to confirm crap! You'd think she would've learned from this, but she keeps doing it! GRAARGH!" Somehow Madam Pomfrey didn't hear that, so Ron continued while pointing at the word Hermione wrote on the page, "And I know Hogwarts is a big castle and everything, but exactly how big is the plumbing? Wouldn't it at least clog the system occasionally?"

"Probably It's Magic, You Don't Have To Explain It, but I want to know why everyone knew that Parseltongue was a hereditary trait and that Salazar Slytherin himself was one so logically his heir would be as well, but no one figured that the monster was a giant fucking snake," said Harry bitterly.

* * *

Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron.

"Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," said Harry, glancing around. "We came to the staff room to tell the teachers something important, and all of the teachers are heading to this room right now. _Obviously_ we have to hide in the closet and not tell any of them a Goddamn thing."

"I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE END OF THE UNIVERSE."

* * *

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

"Oh Merlin…Was her name written on the wall?"

"No, the latest message just said _'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever,'_ there weren't any names."

"…Then how do you know it was Miss Weasley?" asked Professor Flitwick.

"…Iunno."

"The headmaster has clearly left us in capable hands," said Snape, massaging his temples.

* * *

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got _him_ out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened."

"Shouldn't we contact Molly and Arthur about their daughter?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Meh, we can just let what's-his-name, that Peter Weasley—"

"Percy."

"Whatever, we'll let that kid send an owl to his parents later. It's not like it's our responsibility to contact the parents or guardians in these kinds of situations, after all."

"…I honestly think I'm going to be a more competent headmaster," said Snape incredulously.

* * *

"D'you know what?" said Ron. "I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get him into the Chamber even though he practically pissed himself when the professors were basically calling him out on his bullshit. He hasn't done a single useful thing correctly all year and we're two of the only people who were aware of this, but my baby sister is dying and I'm panicking, and it's not like we can go to McGonagall with anything important, we learned our lesson last year after all."

"Amen to that," muttered Harry.

* * *

…Okay, I gotta bring this up. Isn't it a really, _really_ bad thing when you have a dude who admitted to erasing people's memories, and you know of at least one person who has massive blank spots in her memory that you can only _hope_ were caused by Lord Voldemort? D':

* * *

"On the other hand," Riddle went on, "big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, you can't really raise werewolf cubs since they're not wolves all the time so he evidently had tiny children hiding under his bed which _better_ have been stopped, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls because apparently we had trolls in the Forest back then…"

* * *

"I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again when I was still at school," said Riddle, "since that would've made framing Hagrid utterly pointless. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving a chunk of my sixteen-year-old soul in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work, and nearly get the school shut down again in the process because _that's_ how I wanted to treat practically the only home I've ever known."

"Makes sense," said Harry reasonably.

* * *

"I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle," said Riddle," who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?"

"Hate to break it to you," Harry cut him off, "but I don't think they were ever married, your father had been raped for months and wanted out as soon as the date rape drug wore off, and probably didn't even believe your mother was pregnant and just saw it as a desperate plea for him to stick around, which he never wanted to do in the first place."

"YOU KNOW NOTHING."

"I apparently know more than you do."

"SILENCE! I KEEL YOU!"

"Wanna get on that, then, I've been waiting for you to kill me for the past two hours of you monologuing your entire evil plan to me."

* * *

"Now, Harry," said Riddle, his twisted smile widening again, "I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…BY ME STANDING BACK AND LETTING SOMETHING ELSE DO ALL THE WORK FOR ME WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

* * *

_Help me — help me — _Harry thought, his eyes screwed tight under the hat. _Please help me—_

"What, you're begging me for help now?" said the Sorting Hat. "That's not very Gryffindor of you, you should be standing and fighting! This is very Slytherin behavior you're exhibiting right now, damn it, I _knew_ I should've gone with my first instinct…"

_You suck._

"I know," said the hat, cackling in Harry's head. "Here, have a sword."

Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry's head, knocking him out cold. The basilisk ate him, then Ginny died, then the basilisk ate her, and Voldemort came back and destroyed the United Kingdom before slowly moving across Europe, resurrecting himself, and joining himself in taking over the world even though neither version of himself had any clear goals in mind besides becoming as immortal as possible, which they'd already kind of done so they sort of just went about indiscriminately murdering as many people as possible. 'Twas fun times.

* * *

"Phoenix tears…" said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course…healing powers…For the cleverest wizard of my age I really can be a dumbass sometimes, it seems…"

* * *

Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, because once again, he didn't have to do shit.

* * *

"You will both receive Special Awards for Services to the School," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Miss Granger will, of course, not be receiving one of her own even though without her we would probably still be utterly in the dark as to what the monster within the Chamber was and how everything connected together. Why give her any credit at all, amirite, it doesn't matter if she helped save the world/country or not. And — let me see — yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor isn't showing too much favoritism."

* * *

"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.

"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his blue eyes no longer twinkling. "Who was he trying to perform it on, may I ask?"

"Er…me and Harry, sir," said Ron, eyes widening at the thought of Dumbledore actually acting responsible for once.

"He also modified the memories of loads more people," Harry added, "he said so himself."

"…Well balls," said Dumbledore at length. "I'm really going to have to go out of my way to hire someone I trust this time. Let's see, sadly young Remus probably won't have anything going on, maybe I can convince him, that new potion seems ready to go by now in any case…"

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was _Dobby._ FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON OTHER THAN TO GET FREED BY HARRY WHY WOULD LUCIUS EVEN BRING HIM IF HE'S NOT NEEDED WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK I HAVEN'T PICKED UP MY GUITAR IN A WHILE I SHOULD GET ON THAT.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for you—"

And he shoved the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy's hand.

"What the—?"

Mr. Malfoy chucked the sock as far away from him as he could; Dobby dived for it and missed.

"The hell was that?!" cried Mr. Malfoy. "Why in Merlin's name would you think I'd want to have anything to do with a smelly old sock?!"

"…You were supposed to rip it off so you could get to the diary—"

"The hell did you even shove the diary into a fucking _sock_, it was never described as being that small!"

"…Probably should've just handed you the diary with the sock inside it, then…"

"Probab…What's with the whole sock thing, anyway?"

Harry looked down and scuffed the floor with his feet.

"…Was trying to free Dobby…" he said in a near whisper.

"How do you know my house-elf's name," Mr. Malfoy asked swiftly.

"Y-You said it a couple of times," Harry invented wildly. "I-I don't want you to hurt him anymore, is all…"

Mr. Malfoy stared at him for a long while, before looking down at Dobby, whimpering against the wall.

"Well, it looks like we'll just have to put an end to his suffering then, won't we," he said nastily, a horrible smirk crossing his face.

"No!" cried Harry, but it was too late.

"_Avada kedavra,"_ said Mr. Malfoy lazily, drawing his wand from his pocket. There was a burst of green light and a rushing sound, and Dobby fell down, unmoving and lifeless. While Harry stood there, gaping at the elf's motionless form and trembling slightly, Mr. Malfoy sashayed off, muttering under his breath, "Don't really know why I dragged him here in the first place, to be honest…"

* * *

Harry had been to several feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, the celebration lasted all night, and apparently everyone was too hyped about the school being saved and everyone in the hospital wing being put back to normal, even Nick somehow, to wonder about the exact events or ask Harry and Ron any questions about what had happened like most people would. The worst part of the night was definitely Hermione running toward him and Ron, screaming "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M NOT GETTING ANY CREDIT FOR THIS SHIT." One of the _best_ bits, on the other hand, was Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been cancelled because school really isn't about education after all and who cares about grades when it comes to applying for jobs or other schools ("Oh _no!"_ said Hermione, the fifth years, and the seventh years, who would've been relying on those test scores, _especially_ the ones about to graduate, whose existences were now rendered meaningless).

* * *

Draco was no longer strutting around the school as though he owned the place. On the contrary, he looked resentful and sulky. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again, suffering no psychological damage whatsoever from being possessed by Lord Voldemort or being made to attack her fellow students, at least one of whom she would eventually become close with and another who was definitely one of her classmates. Why would that kind of thing affect her in any long-lasting negative way, honestly.

* * *

And together they walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world, and Hermione didn't say a damn thing when Harry basically stated that the Dursleys would've preferred it if their tiny little twelve-year-old nephew had died horribly. She goes to McGonagall on the tiniest suspicion that the Firebolt might've been sent by Sirius, she encourages Harry and Ron to go to the teachers nearly every time they're about to go into a dangerous situation, but when there's very strong evidence that one of her best friends may well be stuck in an abusive environment, she doesn't do a fucking thing about it. TRULY SHE IS A ROLE-MODEL FOR YOUNG GIRLS EVERYWHERE.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, so I told Dndchk, now Imma tell all of you. It takes a while to do these things. I need to reread the entire book. I need to go through what I've already written about that particular installment. I have to consult other sources, such as the Alohomora! podcast and the Mark Reads blog and numerous other sources that I can't remember what idea came from where anymore to find other plot holes and silly things I may have missed over the years. __I need to take thirty+ pages of notes it seems like for all of the things._ It takes a WHILE. But once all the notes have been taken and stuff and I start writing for realzies, I will post and update every Saturday until that particular book has been finished. And then I will take a longer hiatus as the books themselves get longer and more involved. It's how this is gonna go, and I'm sorry but that's how it is. Therefore, I don't really know when I'm putting up the PoA thing...BUT IT'LL PROBABLY BE UP BEFORE POTTERMORE UPDATES! **BOOM!**

_**Review or Sorty'll knock you out with a giant sword and then a giant snake eats you and then the world ends and you'll MISS EXAMS BEING CANCELLED OH NOES.**_


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